Taken Over
by kasviel
Summary: Slash. Angel/Lindsey. A look at the reasons why we choose the side we do, and if anyone can really help the hopeless.


**Author's Notes: **I can't seem to leave the Angel fandom alone, and this couple . . . I'm shocked it did not cross my mind sooner. This is a look at Lindsey McDonald, Angel's rival over at Wolfram & Hart. I found myself wondering if Lindsey could have been saved, and how Angel would have gone about trying to save him, if he had cared enough to go farther than he did for Lindsey. Understanding a choice is a choice and only you can choose your path, I still found a little room to explore the scenario, through a dream which would take place after Lindsey came to Angel for 'help' but before Angel cut his hand off.

The main question is, obviously, could Lindsey have been saved through love, tough love, discipline, or any other measure? Had Angel tried to take the choice out of his hands and steer him himself, would it have made a difference? Obviously, I can't answer that question here without spoiling it, but that was the goal of the fan fiction. I also enjoyed taking a look at Lindsey's conflict, his reasons, and his rationalizations. He is human, but he is a much different kind of person than my last protagonist (Wesley), who was good overall, and who has little trouble choosing good in the end of things, when it matters. I found it a refreshing change to dig into a character that was darker, more broken. Though my idealist side likes writing Wesley, my realistic side is more akin to Lindsey, and so it was a cathartic experience, in a way. Also, he has conflict, he isn't one-dimensionally evil. His dynamic with Angel, who is always borderline sadistic-caring-fatherly in these situations, took some doing to turn romantic; this is actually the second draft of a very short story, which means I had some trouble getting a footing, so to speak, with them as a couple. All in all, though, the pairing of Angel/Lindsey has great potential, and there is a sexy quality to their rivalry. Well, I think so ;-)

You can consider this an extra, 'off-camera' scene, or as strict Alternate Universe. It is slash, and has themes of discipline. One-shot. The scenes from the movie I quote early on, are from _The Devil's Advocate_. Ha. Ha. ;-p

* * *

**Taken Over**

_'Hell, I can't sleep.'_

Restless, angry, Lindsey McDonald tore himself out of bed in the middle of the night. He paced to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, stared in the mirror. Boyishly handsome, navy silk pajamas, nice apartment reflected in the mirror, behind the open bathroom door: he was the picture of modern success, of good things and good fortune. Yet when his gaze wandered to meet the reflection of his own light blue eyes, he looked away.

With a sigh, the man left the bathroom for the kitchen. He poured himself a drink, and carried it, with the bottle, to the living room. He sat down on the sofa, turned the TV on.

_'I remember TV,'_ he thought with a brief, bitter half-laugh and small smile. _'Yeah, I remember when we could watch some at a friend's house. I remember how we'd sit there and stare at all the glossy, beautiful people. I remember their mocking smiles and shiny white teeth, trying to sell to us. Well, I was buying. I was buying, and so damn what? I bought that life they were selling, bought it right up. I promised myself then, I promised . . . it would be worth any price.'_

Lindsey flipped channels. Happening upon a specific movie of Al Pacino's, he could not help himself from lingering on the channel. The distinctive, forceful voice seeped into the silence of the lonely apartment.

"Can you summon your talent at will? Can you deliver on a deadline?"

Lindsey smiled his cynical half-smile, shaking his head. _'Sounds familiar. I think I proved I can handle myself under pressure. Or 'in a crisis' like that prick Holland said.'_

"Can you sleep at night?"

Lindsey's smile fell, and he sighed, changing the channel. He poured himself a second drink, downed a third of it in one go. He settled on some random channel with infomercials droning senselessly, and lay down on the sofa, staring blankly at the screen.

_'They say life's too short, but not when you're poor. Then, it's too long, too long to worry about things like good and evil. Too long to worry about a soul. Not when you're hurting, hungry, every single fucking day. Not just hungry for food. Hungry for life. Hungry for those shiny things. Hungry for respect. Hungry to love yourself because you're just so sick of hating yourself for being trash. I don't care if I can't even look in the mirror. I **see** what's around me. To hell with what's inside._

_'And maybe I have disappointed some people. Maybe they can't respect me, but I sure as hell respect myself. I may not like myself, but I **respect** myself. And damn it, that's all I ever wanted. The rest of them, they can fear me. That's plenty enough for me. Including that vampire, that vampire with a soul . . . It's funny. I'm a bad human that can't see himself in the mirror, and he's a good vampire that can't, either. I can't sleep because I miss the clarity of the days, he can't sleep because he needs the darkness of the nights. Ironic, isn't it? In the end, we're both in the same boat._

_'Only, well, my perks are a hell of a lot better.'_

* * *

_'It's so easy when it starts with a girl.'_

Angel glanced up from his desk to the window. Through his mind flashed several instances where girls had thoroughly kicked his ass.

_'Well, maybe not 'easy', but it always makes sense in a kind of way.'_

Leaning back in his chair with a sigh, he could see them again. Buffy's eyes, Faith's eyes, looking up at him, always so dark, so beautiful . . .

_'You just want to protect them. I mean, maybe that's chauvinism, but I dare any man to deny that primal urge when faced with that kind of look.'_

The images of the trembling-lipped waifs faded, and another kind of look came to the vampire's memory: a young man, scornful, a little impudent, brash, and very young. His light blue eyes glimmered, and were sincere, though there was a jittery uncertainty about him. When he smiled, it was only a sort of hopeless, or cynical, brief half-laugh, and he would lift his head in a vague nod that insinuated an understanding of things, of the world, that very few his age had. There was sadness, great sadness, but underneath it all a bitter, ugly ambition that had been bred from it.

_'It's different with guys,'_ Angel thought with a sigh. _'As a man, you have your own idea of what a man should be, and those ideas are very definite. Especially after two-hundred years. Without the urge to protect and save that you get with women, you're able to judge more clearly._

_More harshly.'_

Angel sat up and ran his hands over his desk. Then, he stood, and began to pace.

_'I can still smell him, the residue of sweet, faint human sweat. The fingerprints on my desk surface, the papers he touched, right here where he stood as I mocked and ignored his pain. Petty human excuses. I remember, though. I remember when you live clutching those petty little miseries and they become your entire world. Why didn't I tell him that? Why did I just . . ._

_That's right. Because I didn't **care**. I dislike him-- We disliked each other from the moment we met. I'm an obstacle in his path to fame and fortune. He's an obstacle in my quest to help people, and a smug, cruel one at that. I was furious with Wolfram & Hart, and I took it out on him. I treated him like a hypocrite . . ._

_. . . so he became one.'_

Angel sighed, collapsing in his chair again, tapping his fingers on the desk surface.

_'Did he become one, or was he already one? Does he even know? Ugh. Why am I thinking about him so much? Who cares?'_

Angel stood, left his office. Cordelia and Wesley had left by now. Angel locked up, and went down to his basement apartment.

_'Maybe I care. Maybe I was starting to believe him, towards the end. Maybe I had hope that someone could really change. Maybe despite it all, I care that I couldn't save him. Maybe it bothers me that I didn't even try.'_

Angel undressed and lay down in bed. Dawn was coming, and he had not been catching much sleep lately.

_'Even if I had tried,'_ he thought as he began to drift into sleep, _'it wouldn't have mattered. Lindsey didn't want to be saved. You can't change a person like that. It wouldn't have changed a thing, even if . . . I had . . . tried . . . '_

* * *

Angel woke with a start, to find himself standing upright. He blinked a few times in confusion, looking around. The Wolfram & Hart building loomed in front of him, a dark tower sprinkled with office lights glinting like so many glassy, cold eyes, down at the night city. Angel stared up at it, then scratched the back of his neck. Was it a dream? A nightmare?

A figure stirred in the night, and Angel glanced ahead. "Lindsey?"

The young man was equally perturbed, frowning deeply as he approached the doors to the building. Hadn't he already done this? Had he dreamed he had done it, and was doing it now? Why was everything so hazy?

The young man drew a breath and resolved himself. Well, no use in stalling. If everything worked out as he thought it already had, then he had things to look forward to. He hesitated before the glass doors, the world seeming to stop. The uncertainty only lasted a moment, before he reached out and took the cold metal door handle into one palm--

"Don't do it."

Lindsey blinked. _'That's new.'_

Turning around, he came face to face with the vampire with a soul, Angel. He looked the undead man up and down suspiciously. "What?"

"You heard me," Angel said casually, hands in his coat pockets. "Don't do it."

"Don't do _what_, exactly?" Lindsey inquired. "I was just going in to return the disks, secure my--"

"Safety?" Angel guessed. "Come on, don't lie to me."

"I'm not--"

Angel was suddenly close in front of him, towering over the man's height by a few inches. "I **said**, don't lie to me," he repeated, voice almost sing-song in its patronizing. His eyes went to Lindsey's throat, catching him swallow nervously, then he surveyed the man's eyes, trying to read them. "You're planning on what, exactly, Lindsey? What? Letting them know you have them? Telling them you took a stand?"

"Yeah, that's right," Lindsey said brashly.

"Why?"

"What?"

"_Why_?" Angel repeated. "Why do they have to know anything about you, or what you did? It's not like they'll care. You're probably not even important enough for them to kill."

Lindsey's chest swelled with indignation. "I know them a little better than you do, Angel," he replied. "And from what I've seen, I think I am that important."

Lindsey turned his back on Angel and back to the doors.

"Maybe you just want to think you're that important, Lindsey."

The young man stopped, smiled incredulously. "Tch."

"Maybe that's why you're going back in there," Angel continued, "to prove it to yourself."

"No." Lindsey whipped around angrily. "**No**. What I want to prove is that I'm not afraid anymore. Not of them, not of you, not of anyone or anything."

"Well, then, that's your problem right there."

Lindsey stared at him in bafflement. "What?"

"You think you have nothing to fear. No person who really wanted to redeem themselves would be that bold, or that stupid," Angel said, stepping up to him again. "If you were sincere, you would know that you have _everything_ to fear, most of all Wolfram & Hart. You would be smart enough to recognize your flaws and the temptations they can use to exploit them. You would be deathly afraid, Lindsey, of being turned back into what you were, and you would live with that fear every single day of your life."

"Well, maybe I'm just a braver man than you," Lindsey said coldly.

"What you _are_--" Angel took him by the front of his jacket. "--is a lying, sniveling little hypocrite. You make excuses and you lie and you use people." He gave the man a shake. "You used _me_ to soothe your conscience for the moment, and to test your boldness not your heart. You were bored and you used something so horrible as the threat of children dying to spur your little test of manhood."

Lindsey scowled, looking away.

"Now it's done, and you feel like your own man, instead of Wolfram & Hart's," Angel told him. "You can go back to them in confidence, and this time you're going to be the one using them. That's it, isn't it?"

"I really didn't want those children to die."

"No, but the ones you'll never even hear about, the ones you'll never see or be ordered to kill specifically, those are just fine, right?"

Lindsey shrugged. "I can't be responsible for everything."

Angel slammed him up against the wall of the building while Lindsey struggled futilely. "You go in there, Lindsey, there won't be any going back."

The man glanced at the door, then frowned down at Angel furiously.

"But you knew that, didn't you?" Angel put him down, released him. "And you're just fine with it."

Lindsey straightened his jacket in annoyance, moved his head so his lank hair fell back into place out of his eyes. "Yes," he said chillingly. "All right? Is that what you wanted? A confession? All right, _yes_. I used you, I'm using them, I admit it. And you're not one to talk about shallow redemption, _monster_."

"At least I _am_ a monster," Angel told him. "What's your excuse?"

Lindsey straightened his tie and glared up at Angel. "I don't owe you anything, not even an excuse," he retorted. "This has nothing to do with you, it never did. I am going to walk through that door right now, and you're not going to do a damn thing about it."

"Oh, you're wrong about that."

Lindsey frowned slightly, and before he knew what had happened, he was slung over the man's shoulder. His blue eyes went wide, and he kicked at him on instinct. "What the hell're you doin'?!" he shouted, Southern accent breaking through his usually controlled voice.

"Trying. To save you."

"What? Are you crazy!"

"Isn't that what you wanted, Lindsey?" Angel asked him. "Didn't you come to me for help?"

"Not with-- I mean--"

"So, you didn't mean it." Angel smiled knowingly. "You didn't want out."

"Damn it! Where is everyone?" Lindsey lifted his head, hair falling wildly around his face. The streets were oddly empty. No pedestrians. No police. Not even much traffic. "Hey! HEY!"

"Liar, liar, liar." Angel laughed. "Look how hard you're trying _not_ to get out."

"If I wanted to be saved, it wouldn't be by you," scoffed Lindsey. He licked his dry lips, looking around in amazement as no one came to help or even investigate. Turning scarlet, he bowed his head, realizing no one was coming. "You're a goddamn freak. Put me down."

"No can do. You came to me for help, I'm helping."

"Put me down!" Lindsey roared. "I'll kill you!"

"Lindsey, Lindsey . . . don't you ever learn?" Angel dropped the man into the passenger seat of his black convertible, and held him firmly in place as he squirmed. "The Slayer _you_ hired didn't kill me. The demon you hired next, mm, no kill. And you think you, all alone, are going to kill me?"

Lindsey's eyes shifted, and he looked uncomfortably fearful.

"Exactly."

Angel got in the driver's side, and grabbed Lindsey by the hem of his jacket as he tried to make a jump out of the car. "Ah, ah, ah." Angel tied him tight with the seat belt. "Do you have to make everything a war?"

"What the hell are you going to do?" seethed Lindsey, writhing against the seat belt. "Lock me up? Kill me? You think this will change anything?"

"I don't know anything, that's why I have to try," Angel said, serious now. He started the car up and pulled out onto the bizarrely deserted streets. "I have to know."

"Know _what_?"

Angel turned to him. "If I could-- If I _can_ save you, Lindsey."

"Why?"

"Peace of mind." Angel grinned at him cynically. "You used me when you needed to test your own limits, didn't you? Well, consider this my way of returning the favor."

"Christ," Lindsey swore.

"Well, I don't think you're worth going up on a cross for, but the saving humans part is--"

Lindsey groaned and leaned his head back on the seat. "Fuck you," he said, either to Angel or to the sky.

Angel glanced at him, recognized the pure hatred, and decided to stop antagonizing him for the moment. He also glanced up at the starry sky, and then focused on the road. Not that there were any other cars to avoid. He knew by now that this was a dream. Whether it meant something actual or not, he could not say. It didn't really matter. It meant something to him. Maybe if he tried hard enough, it would mean something to Lindsey, as well. If the man were truly here. It felt like his consciousness, it felt real. Connected dream-visions were rare, but they could happen sporadically, without magic or any other supernatural influence. If the quandaries were strong enough . . .

Angel glanced at Lindsey again; the man was simply depressed, staring at nothing as they drove through the LA scenery. _'If he is really here, it means his doubts and 'what if's were as strong as mine,'_ Angel thought. _'It means he has doubts. It means there is conflict. So, the icy little bastard is human, after all? I guess that is why we're both here: to see just how human he can be.'_

* * *

Lindsey was sullenly silent during the entire ride, and thankful that Angel had also finally shut up. Once parked, Angel untied the seatbelt binding the man. Lindsey was dragged by one arm out of the car, though he shook Angel off soon as he could. Still, he offered no resistance, knowing there was no possible way of escaping from the vampire just yet. He followed Angel into the small office where he ran his investigations from, and then down into the basement where Angel led him. He looked around with raised eyebrows at the basement apartment, having never seen the vampire's abode before.

Lindsey made a hissing noise of amusement after a while. "This is it?"

Angel, hovering nearby, gave him a look. "This is what?"

"It? All you own, all you live in?" Lindsey asked. "It's just . . . " He grinned briefly. "Two hundred years-- Two hundred years, and it all amounts to this?"

Angel crossed his arms, leaning on the kitchen counter. "Not to your tastes, is it, Lindsey?"

"I don't think it's to anyone's tastes," Lindsey said scornfully. "Look at you, look at this place. There isn't a single thing of worth in it."

"Well, you know, I used to have a better class of life, when I had _no soul_."

Lindsey drew an impatient breath, shaking his head. Angel grabbed his arm before he wandered away out of boredom and disbelief.

"Then I decided that that was worth more than any class of lifestyle," Angel told him.

"Spare me." Lindsey shook him off. "Wherever I choose to work, whomever I choose to work for, I'll still be a human."

"That's the saddest part." Angel stood. "You're making choices. Terrible ones. And for what, Lindsey? Money? Is it really worth that much to you?"

"It's more than money, it's power," Lindsey replied. "And yes, it does. It makes you who you are, _what_ you are. All that religion and politics and blue collar pride crap they try to teach you, it's all lies. Don't grin at me like that!" He shouted, pointing accusingly at the vampire. "You know, I _know_ you know it's true!"

"Truth is what you make it," Angel said. "You're making something matter more than it does, simply because you're a greedy, spoiled brat."

"Spoiled?" Lindsey asked incredulously. "Spoiled? I had nothing! How the hell--"

"You had love."

Lindsey stopped mid-sentence, looking slightly startled.

"Or are you going to sob to me about not having that, either?" Angel asked. "More excuses, more whining?"

"No. No, I'm not going to lie." Lindsey collected himself, turning from Angel and glancing around. "My parents loved me. They loved me into their excuses, their reasons, for my suffering. All of us. Loved, but not cared for. At least, so they said." He turned back to Angel. "I was smarter than the others. I learned early on that inaction isn't love, and that people who have nothing else, will use love to verify their pathetic lives. Love of God, love of family, bullshit!"

"Whine, whine." Angel smirked at the man. "If mommy and daddy loved me, they would have bought me a pony."

Lindsey looked a bit horrified at the vampire's apathy. "How dare you . . . "

"It's not my fault I sold my soul, I just wanted the good life no one loved me enough to hand to me. It's not my fault people have to die because I didn't have a free ride."

"Stop it!"

"Not my fault I have to ride my meal ticket to Hell," Angel went on cruelly. "I'm just confused and scared and angry. Poor baby."

"I said--"

"Well, it is your fault, Lindsey!" Angel snapped. "Innocent people with less than you, innocent people with more than you, dying by those clients you defend in exchange for your gilded dreams, and it is your fault! It's _all_ **your** fault!"

Lindsey grabbed a random sword off the wall and threw it at the vampire. "You son-of-a-bitch!" He shouted, jumping at him with another weapon, a hatchet. "You fucking son-of-a-bitch, I'll kill you!"

"Whoa, that truth hurts, doesn't it?" Angel asked, having to struggle a bit at fending the enraged man off. "Gave up on your sense of humor, too, huh?"

Lindsey slammed the back end of the weapon into Angel's stomach, hard, and looked pleased as the vampire grunted in pain. "I'm not your fool, or anybody else's!" he yelled, hitting him again. "I want respect!"

"You **won't** have it." Angel grasped the weapon and pried it from his hands, sending it flying past the young man's startled face. "Not from me."

He ran up the man into the wall and held him there by the front of his jacket. Lindsey glared at him, doing a good job at retaining his defiant scowl while a tinge of fear bubbled inside his chest. This man could kill him, and he was well aware of it. The only thing he was going on was sympathy, and the vampire had never seemed very big on it when it came to him.

"I won't respect a liar and a hypocrite who would cash in on the only thing in his entire miserable life that means anything," Angel told him. "I won't respect you, and I don't fear you, and you can't stand that, can you?"

Lindsey struggled, but Angel slammed him against the wall again.

"No, because you want to keep living in your own little selfish world without anyone pinning your bubble, am I right?" Angel continued. "You're always right, but you're justified when you're wrong. You want all the benefits without any guilt or remorse--" Angel pressed closely in front of him, so their faces nearly touched. "--any punishment."

Lindsey faltered, and swallowed again. Uncertain of what to say, he just stared up into those dark eyes. Despite himself, he couldn't help thinking they did look warm and alive-- _soulful_. Did he mean it? Did this Godforsaken monster actually want to save him?

No, no, it couldn't be. Why the heck would he do a thing like that? They were enemies who hated each other, that made sense. Anything else just had to be for an ulterior motive.

"You're trying to find something, aren't you?" Angel said knowingly. "A reason, a plot? There's no reason, Lindsey, no evil designs."

"Then why?"

Angel met his eyes.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I save people," Angel sighed, releasing him finally. "It's . . . what I do."

Lindsey slid to his feet and rubbed his arm briefly. He studied the vampire, pondering him. "We're not exactly friends."

"Not yet."

Lindsey gave a cynical hiss. "You don't want to be my friend."

"Why? Because I know you'd turn on me, kill me, the moment you got the chance?" Angel shrugged. "It might be a risk worth taking."

"Then take the risk of letting me go," Lindsey said, his temper barely restrained. "I'm a man, let me make my own choices. Let me out of here."

"No."

"Why the hell not?!"

"Tch. You're a man . . . " Angel echoed. He shook his head, coming over to Lindsey; he reached to touch his face, but the youth jerked back in defensive instinct. "A man? No, you're still a child."

Lindsey began to seethe again. "I am _not_--"

"An angry, bitter child who's lashing out at the cruel world he still doesn't fully understand," Angel said. He exhaled, pacing away from him, running his hands through his hair. "You think _I'm_ a hypocrite, don't you? Well, you know what? I am."

Lindsey watched him, then began looking around for a weapon.

"You wanted money, I wanted love . . . The grass is always greener, right?" Angel said, bitterly amused. "When I was a human your age, yes, I did choose wrong. I was as preoccupied with what I didn't have as you are, and I was lashing out, too. Defiance of the good my parents tried to teach me, sinking into debauchery to drown the ugliness I was slowly assuming, giving up on the world because I thought it cut me short. Oh yeah, Lindsey, I understand perfectly, and that makes me a hypocrite."

Lindsey found a small stake, hid it in his sleeve, and right before Angel turned to look at him again.

"But no one can teach without being a hypocrite, it's impossible," Angel told him. "You _have_ to understand to really know how to face those demons."

"You don't understand me," Lindsey scowled. "No one does."

"No, I do." Angel came up to him and turned his face towards his own. For a split second, he remembered his own reflection, many years past, looking up into the mirror with that same fury, that same petulance. "Believe me."

"I believe you," Lindsey smiled, his tone suddenly soft. "I believe you are a . . . a monster, Angel."

His hand flew, but Angel caught it by the wrist just before the stake pierced his skin. Lindsey sighed in frustration, trying to drive the stake forward. Angel frowned deeply, wresting it from him, and then lifting his hand to strike him. The youth cringed, bracing himself, but Angel lowered his hand.

"What?" Lindsey asked, eying him cautiously. Then, his trademark smug smile returned. "Hit me."

Angel was beginning to fast lose his patience with the haughty punk.

"Isn't that what you brought me here for? I mean, really, without all the introspective BS." Lindsey gave the vampire a shove. "To hit me? Huh? To kill me, maybe?"

Angel's fist curled.

"Stop trying to prove you're good for anything else, you freak," Lindsey sneered. "You can talk about humanity all you want, two hundred years of watching it must provide some good insight, yeah. But don't you stand there and pretend to really remember what it is, what it feels like, because you have no idea. You wouldn't even exist anymore if you weren't a murdering, disgusting, evil mon--"

Angel grabbed him by the jacket and flung him clear across the room. Lindsey hit a chair, hard, and winced. "Ngh. Well, now, that's more like it."

He glared up at Angel with a hardened face, eyes daring the vampire to lose control. Mixed in with the scent of fear was that of excitement now, and Angel was disturbed by it. "You're not just doing it for the money or the respect." He lifted Lindsey up by the shirt, their faces close again. "You _like_ it. You enjoy being evil. Don't you?"

" . . . "

"DON'T YOU!"

Lindsey's eyes widened, but he quickly returned to scowling. "Yeah," he said, his voice that drawl that came on whenever he was particularly rattled. "I do." He grinned. "Didn't you?"

Lindsey kicked him, hard, in the stomach. "Aren't you gonna enjoy this, Angel, huh?!" he asked. "Hurting me, killing me! You're gonna enjoy it all the same as any other monster!"

Angel smiled coldly at him. "You're right. I am."

Lindsey braced himself to be pummeled, but was not. There was a flash of motion faster than a human being could comprehend, and the next thing he knew, he was hanging half upside-down. Lifting his head, the man could only utter a dazed, "Huh?"

"I'm not sure how many monsters enjoy disciplining people for their own good," Angel was saying, "but I certainly am."

"Disci-- What?" Lindsey strained to look over his shoulder, and realized he was draped over the vampire's lap. His face rushed over red and hot, and he instantly went to struggle violently. Angel held him down, pulling one arm behind his back and pinning it to his spine. "What the hell--"

"You've been asking for this. In fact, maybe _you'll_ enjoy it, too." Angel shook him briefly to stop him from writhing.

"What kind of sick game--"

"I'm not playing," Angel said gravely. "I'm not."

Lindsey managed to crane his neck enough to stare up at the man, and suddenly looked younger and almost vulnerable. Angel smiled a tiny bit. He had seen that look plenty in his days as Angelus, and it always made him . . .

Angel drew a breath to compose himself, and released Lindsey's arm; they both knew he could not get away, anyway. He gave the young man a look, then began tugging his pants open, then down. Lindsey growled in outrage, trying to pull himself up again, and once again being forced back down.

"You can't do this!" Lindsey yelled in haughty protest. "I'm a grown man, you sick freak!"

"I always thought adults were the ones who were most in need of discipline, actually." Angel bared the youth's bottom, eyed it interestedly for a moment before shaking the thoughts that came to mind off. "Children are innocent, learning, but adults know. They know what they're doing, they know what they are, they know the difference--" He lifted a hand and slapped it down on the man's fair, naked flesh. He was used to working for a living in an office, a lawyer, and was pleasantly soft. Angel had to swallow and stifle many more feelings before he struck him again. "--between right and wrong." He cleared his throat, and eased into a rhythmic session of slaps. "It's a reality check. No matter how old you are, you can still be wrong. You can still be punished."

Lindsey gaped rather dumbly at the floor in shock, eyes watering, chest heaving. He blankly tried to push himself up, but Angel only held him down with a couple of fingers. _'He's strong,'_ Lindsey noted mindlessly. The smacks resonated throughout the basement apartment, and as the shock wore off, the hot sting they were building became more uncomfortable. _'It . . . it hurts like hell.'  
_

"But it takes someone other than family then," Angel said softly. "It takes a lover, one who isn't afraid of you, who isn't afraid to hurt you for your sake."

"We're not lovers!" Lindsey said hoarsely. He blinked back tears, stubbornly refusing to cry. "You have no right. You just want to humiliate me."

"I think you can use the humiliation."

Lindsey frowned deeply, staring at the floor sullenly. "Fuck you."

"No one has ever brought you down from the high horse, have they?" Angel said; it was not a question. "No one has ever dared or desired. Your parents loved you too much. Wolfram & Hart uses your flaws to manipulate you into their service. Everyone else has been used by you or used you."

The man swallowed, trying to ignore the vampire's words.

"Users, takers, teachers that are too soft, learners that are too admiring. I almost pity you, Lindsey." Angel paused to caress the man's hot, reddened skin. "Aren't you lucky you came to me?"

"I came . . . to use you."

"Confession time, huh?" Angel resumed spanking him. "If anything, you expected I would use you back, get revenge in some fist-fight, or that you would get away with it completely, didn't you? You never expected me to actually care."

"You don't care!" Lindsey shouted, waving his arms. "You don't care! No one does! You're just making a fool out of me!"

Angel looked at him a little pityingly. "Even vampires don't deny reality like this, Lindsey. Why can't you believe in anything good, hm?"

Lindsey pressed his eyes shut, the pain grating on his nerves. "Mmph."

"Are you really that afraid?"

Angel could not see it, but the man's bottom lip was beginning to tremble, though still set in a down-turned scowl.

"It wasn't love that made you suffer," Angel said gently. "It wasn't anything, Lindsey. It wasn't anyone's fault."

"You're wrong!" the man yelled angrily. "You're wrong! It was my father! He could have--"

"What? Not had you? Not created the life you now cling to so desperately, the self you love so much?" Angel asked. "He could have tried harder, even though he gave everything he probably had, did everything he probably knew? There is a design to things, sometimes, Lindsey. Did you ever think about that?"

"Yeah, I did, I thought about it long and hard," Lindsey said ruefully. "Then I figured I would make my own design, _no matter what_."

"And look at what you've made it."

Lindsey smiled. "Yeah. Look."

"An office, a car, maybe some nice place to live, and what?" Angel struck him harder than usual, watched him jump on his lap. "You're still empty."

Lindsey inhaled, exhaling slowly. He wanted to argue, but he couldn't find his tongue.

"You're still here." Angel made an amused sound. "You stopped fighting, stopped protesting. Why, Lindsey? Hm? Why are you trying to explain, knowing I won't accept your excuses? What's keeping you here, over my knees, being spanked like a small, bad child?"

Lindsey drew another breath.

"What is it?"

"Let me go." The man licked his lips, drawing himself up weakly as much as he could. He almost fell back down, and gripped Angel's knee to steady himself. "Let-- Just let me go. Angel."

"Why? Because you might actually start to learn your lesson, and God forbid you take your intended redemption seriously?"

"Just let me go!" Lindsey exclaimed. His hand tightened on the other man's knee. "I . . . I'm not gonna cry and I'm not gonna break down, open up. You can hit me all you want. I won't. I just . . . I won't let myself." He drew a breath, but there was a sniffle on it. "I'm not a child."

"No, Lindsey, you aren't," Angel finally admitted, slowing the whacks to a stop. "A child wouldn't know any better. A child would listen to me. A child would feel bad because they haven't contorted the entire world to fit their own bitter views. A child wouldn't be so given up. So hopeless."

Lindsey was starting to break, and he could feel it. _'No. No, I won't let myself, damn it. I'm a man. A **man**.'_

"A child would be innocent." Angel turned Lindsey's face to look up at him, but Lindsey averted his gaze. "Look at me." Angel had to struggled to keep him from pulling off his lap. "Shhh. Shh. Look at me."

For the first time, the man obeyed Angel, and their eyes met. His suit was askew, hair a mess, face flushed with embarrassment. Feeling sheepishly disheveled, his brow furrowed slightly.

"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't deserve that?"

Lindsey shut his eyes, exhaling.

"Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't _want_ to be punished?"

Lindsey shook his head, opening his eyes to stare at Angel again. "Maybe I deserved it," he admitted, "but no, I didn't want it."

Angel looked disappointed.

"And I sure as hell didn't ask for it," Lindsey added, temper starting to flare. "You had no right."

"Yes, I did." Angel maneuvered the bewildered man off his lap, and stood up before him. He kept his hands about Lindsey's shoulders, uncertain of how he might react. "You came to me, remember?"

"Not for this. Christ." Lindsey drew a shuddering breath, running his hands through his hair. "You _spanked_ me."

Angel couldn't help smiling a tiny smile. _'They're always so cute when they're stunned.'_

"My own father never spanked me," Lindsey went on, pacing. His pants hung low around his waist, shirt sloppily half-spilling out of them. "Now what?" He turned on Angel. "You keep lecturing me, send me to the corner, maybe? Wait until I cry?"

Angel just looked at him.

"That is what you want, isn't it?" Lindsey asked loudly, though his voice cracked. "To see me cry?"

Angel came up in front of him, and went to touch his arms, but he jerked away. "Lindsey . . . "

"No, no, I just-- I . . . aww sh-shit."

His head bowed and he buried his eyes in a sleeve. He cried soundlessly, until Angel pulled him to his chest, at which point he burst into a few low, angry sobs. Angel stared down at him, and then stroked his back. The closeness was tempting, and foreign; had it been that long since he had held another? It felt good, and sad, and sweet.

_'This is a dream, vision, whatever,'_ Angel thought with a troubled frown. _'Why is it starting to feel real? Why does it feel like it matters? Why am I . . . '_

"It's ok, Lindsey, it's . . . " Angel stroked the young man's dark brown hair, breathing in the scent of it. "Shh. It's all right now."

_'Why am I starting to care?'_

"Now what?" Lindsey asked tearfully, looking up at Angel. "You-you comfort me, and we have sex?"

"Is that what you want?" Angel took his face in both hands. "What _do_ you want, Lindsey?"

"What do I want?" Lindsey echoed. He shook his head, removing Angel's hands from his face. "I want . . . lots of money." He smiled a little. "More than you can spend in ten lifetimes."

Angel sighed as Lindsey moved out of his arms, pacing away from him.

"And I want nice things," Lindsey went on, staring at nothing. "Respect and power, and . . . And I . . . "

Angel came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Lindsey looked down at it, and then turned back to stare up at the vampire.

"And I don't want to be bad," he said.

Angel raised his eyebrows.

"But you can't be good, not in this world," Lindsey said, looking too world-weary for his age. "Not without being stepped on."

Angel crossed his arms. "But . . . aren't I stepping on you now, anyway?"

Lindsey blushed. "You're . . . different." He frowned quizzically at Angel. "You never thought anything of me. You didn't respect me, my law firm, nothing."

"And I won't."

"And you'll die for it."

"Maybe." Angel shrugged. "But I've made my choice, and I'm going to stand by it."

Lindsey looked down sullenly.

"I have the strength to do that," Angel told him. "I also have the strength to help you do it, if you want to. But you have to want it, Lindsey."

"You know what I wanted when I was going back to Wolfram & Hart," Lindsey said softly. "How did you? Angel?"

"Does it matter?"

"Guess not." Lindsey shrugged. He loosened his crooked tie further, and drew a breath. " . . . And you know something like--" He gave a short, incredulously amused sound. "--like a spanking . . . won't change anything."

"You sure about that?"

Lindsey looked at him, and then realized he was right. He looked down at himself, his clothing nearly hanging off, in disarray; his perfect image was gone, and all the pretenses with it. His shoulders were slumped, he could barely meet Angel's eyes for more than a minute, and he felt small. He felt so small and so weak . . .

"What are you so afraid of?" Angel asked, drawing him close again by the arms. "Hm? No one is going to hurt you."

"I'm afraid of what walking away will mean," Lindsey admitted. "I'm afraid it'll mean turning my back on my one and only chance."

"At your age? You're so young, that's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Lindsey said. "It's hard to get a break in this world. You never worked a day in your miserable life, not as a human or a vampire. You don't know how hard it is. You have no idea how many people, better and smarter and better-bred than me, have failed, or worse, never even gotten that shot."

"Ugh." Angel sank onto the sofa, rubbing his forehead.

"If I choose for the sake of things like good and evil, all those lofty ideals that don't mean jack, I could end up hating myself for it," Lindsey went on. "Don't you understand that?"

"Does it matter?" Angel asked in annoyance. "You don't care what I think. You don't care who judges you, because you're already over judging yourself. Once you clear that hurtle, it's all over, isn't it?"

Lindsey began zippering his pants, getting his clothing together. Angel stood back up and suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders. Their eyes met, and Lindsey's impudent defiance returned to his face.

"After that, it's all clear."

"Guess you're right," Lindsey said. A smug, evil smile tugged his lips, and he said, "You know, as kinky as it is, I have to thank you for punishing me just now."

Angel looked startled by this. He searched the youth's light eyes for some trace of humanity, but if there was any at all, Lindsey was masking it expertly.

"It was . . . cathartic," Lindsey went on. "And now that it's over, I can go on."

"You think that was your punishment? You have no idea what punishment really is." Angel released him. "So go. Go back to them. You'll find out what real punishment is."

"If that wasn't punishment, then what was it?"

"A last-ditch effort."

Lindsey seemed amused, and he smirked suggestively at Angel. "Yeah? At what, exactly?"

The youth didn't even see Angel's hand move, and his face suddenly exploded in pain. The sound of the slap seemed to resonate throughout the basement apartment a second later. Lindsey was thrown to the floor, where he clutched his cheek in shock.

"At saving your life, you ungrateful little brat."

Lindsey did not get up, rubbing his face hard. The tears returned, began to free fall down his hot face. After a moment, Angel was kneeling beside him. Neither said a word.

Angel remembered his own father striking him in exactly the same fashion, and he began to feel guilty. There had always been that desire to become his father, but he had never thought it was resurface with Angelus gone. There was no one to blame this time, not even the fallacies of being human. Worst of all, through the guilt, he also felt satisfied; it was pleasing to see the haughty youth brought down, broken, and frightened. It was pleasing to have felt that burst of warmth as his palm met his soft cheek, to see his eyes so large and surprised and hurt, staring up at him. It was gratifying to see all that arrogance and defiance smacked right off the man's cute, boyish face.

"You don't want to save me," Lindsey said softly, staring at the floor.

"Not at first."

The man looked at him.

"I was trying to test us both. You were a curiosity." Angel removed Lindsey's hand from his cheek, surveyed the bright red handprint he had left on it. "Not now."

Their eyes met.

"I mean it now."

Angel rubbed at Lindsey's cheek, and for once, Lindsey did not fight his touch away.

"You sure have a way of showing sincerity," Lindsey remarked.

Angel smiled a little, and then leaned in to kiss him. _'I can taste the fear, the humility. Damn it, it tastes so good. He feels so good.'_

"Mmph--" Lindsey drew back an inch. "I thought you couldn't--"

"Bliss. That's the only clause."

"Oh, and there's no way you'd find that with me, right?" Lindsey exhaled, running his hands through his hair. "No. No, I don't care if it's possible or not or anything. I don't want--"

Angel rushed into a long, probing kiss, and felt the man melt into it. Lindsey's hands grabbed at his shirt, hard, wanting and needing.

"You were saying?"

Lindsey looked breathless, and perplexed. "I'm not . . . "

Angel waited.

"I'm not gay."

Angel laughed, shaking his head. "Lindsey . . . "

"What? _What_? I'm not! I--"

After their third kiss, Lindsey's body was begging to differ. He drew a breath, trying to gather himself enough to argue, but couldn't. Angel smiled, stroking his stinging face, and steered him onto his back. Lindsey's heart was racing, and he wondered if it was from fear or desire or what. He stared up at the vampire, trying desperately to hate him, and unable to.

Angel's smile was warm, reassuring, and kind. _'Why does he have to look so sincere, damn him?'_ Lindsey thought. _'Why do I want to believe him, anyway?'_

Lindsey made an amused sound, shaking his head. "Angel . . . "

"Shhh." Angel untied the man's tie, began unbuttoning his shirt, and gave him a smoldering, long kiss. "Just stop fighting."

_'The demon with the face of an angel,'_ Lindsey thought, staring at the vampire. Angel's cool hands felt good against his own warm skin, caressing and comforting. It was funny, how they could hurt so much, and then be so gentle.

Angel kissed the man's chest, over the heartbeat. "It's been a while . . . " He smiled over at Lindsey. "I . . . "

Lindsey kissed him, biting him and tasting him unabashedly. Deciding to simply have what he wanted, he attacked the vampire with a hungry passion. Angel murmured sounds in surprise, and met him with equal intensity. They sprawled out over the floor, banging into the legs of the coffee table and the sofa, knocking things down, throwing clothes around randomly.

_'I've never felt so vulnerable,'_ Lindsey thought, though he was too lost in ecstasy to worry about it too much or fight it. Angel turned him onto his stomach, kissing his neck and squeezing his shoulder. _'Not during sex. It's still hot and chaotic, but it's also . . . it's also humbling, with him. But it feels good.'_ His lips parted as he inhaled sharply. _'It feels good to just be . . . without trying or fighting or trying to prove anything . . . to just be . . . **with** someone. To be **theirs**.'_

Lindsey glanced back, and his face bumped gently against Angel's. The vampire was moist with Lindsey's sweat, and he gave him a shushing kiss at the corner of his mouth just before Lindsey was about to cry out.

_'Is this love?'_

Lindsey cried out now, hands grasping at the floor.

_'I never wanted love. It isn't worth anything. It makes you careless and stupid, soft. God, I . . . I tried so hard to . . . protect myself . . . '_

"You're crying, aren't you?"

Angel's hand reached blindly, then grasped Lindsey's comfortingly. Lindsey broke into sobs, as the two drew apart. Angel embraced him, kissing his neck, and for a few moments they were just still.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked when Lindsey was not calming. "Lindsey?"

Lindsey nodded tearfully. "Yeah." He met Angel's eyes, and nodded. "Yeah."

They kissed, and fell back into the warmth of closeness. Angel bent over Lindsey's chest, littering his bare skin with small kisses. Lindsey stared up at the ceiling, light eyes hazy and searching. Angel glanced at him, giving him an inquisitive look. Lindsey stared at him, and then smiled; for the first time, there was no cynicism and bitterness in the smile, and he looked almost shy.

"So, I found you, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

Angel held his face by the cheek. "The real Lindsey McDonald. Not the devil's advocate or the cutthroat attorney, or the proud, cold man that only cares about money. It's you, isn't it? _Just_ you."

Lindsey looked unnerved. "I-I guess so."

Angel chuckled, kissing him, and they fell together once again.

* * *

They managed to find their way into Angel's bedroom, and eventually afterward onto the bed. Some time later, Angel was lying on his stomach, considering his new conquest, as Lindsey lay on his chest. Lindsey held onto him, but there was still something detached in his eyes. His mind was obviously preoccupied. Angel wondered if it was for the better or not.

Sometime during what must have been dawn, Lindsey pulled away from Angel. The vampire seemed asleep. Drawing a breath, the man tore himself away from the soft sheets and the comfort of company. He climbed out of bed and began to try finding all his clothes.

As he dressed, his hands brushed against the skin Angel had bruised, caressed. He could still feel the vampire lingering on his skin, smell him . . . want him. But he forced the clothes on, forced himself to leave the bedroom. In the living room, he stopped at the door. It was not locked, certainly not guarded. No one was standing in his way this time.

It hurt. It hurt much more than he would have ever expected. Every step into the hall, upstairs to the office, and into the street was agonizing. But he got through it. In the twilight, he stared around at the empty city. Angel's words seemed to echo off the cement buildings lining the horizon like so many tombstones:

_"An office, a car, maybe some nice place to live, and what? You're still empty."_

Empty, alone . . .

. . . but rich and important.

Powerful.

Respected.

It felt like he had not even taken a single step, but suddenly he was staring up at Wolfram & Hart.

"Lindsey. Don't."

Lindsey turned around. Angel was there, dressed in his usual black. This time, he was not smiling or casual. This time, his eyes were sad, old, tired. This time, he cared.

"Why not?" Lindsey asked. "This isn't real."

The words cut through the city like a knife, exposing the haze of it. Reality wavered.

"Is it?"

Angel shook his head.

"I knew it," Lindsey murmured. "It doesn't change anything. It isn't even happening."

"Yes, it is," Angel said, stepping towards him. "So long as there's life, it's never too late. Hell, even after we've died, sometimes, there's still a chance."

Lindsey just shook his head distantly.

"You're still alive and human. I've seen that here tonight, and you know you've seen it, too." Angel took him by the shoulders. "You still have the chance you came to me to give you. Don't throw it away, not here, and not when you wake up."

"I'll probably forget . . . " Lindsey sighed. "No. I won't, will I?"

"And that's why you have another chance to choose," Angel told him.

Lindsey looked longingly at the doors to the company. He broke out of Angel's light grasp and headed towards them.

"Is this really how you want it to end?"

"No . . . " Lindsey said softly. He turned back to Angel, saw the glimmer of hope in the vampire's eyes. His own eyes blurred with tears, but he did not stop walking. "_This_ is how I want it to end."

They looked down. A stake had pierced Angel's heart. Angel searched Lindsey's eyes, looking betrayed and disappointed. Lindsey felt his heart lunge, one last, sorrowful time, and the last of his tears fall.

The world exploded.

* * *

"Ahaa-- Aaooow!"

There was a sickening thud, and Lindsey felt his body explode with pain. He pulled himself up on the floor, looking around in dazed alarm. The sun was shining in through his windows, illuminating his familiar apartment. He looked around in bewilderment, at all his nice things, at his city waiting outside, and then at his reflection in the blank TV screen.

In the bedroom, his alarm clock was going off. Time to go to work.

"Thank God," Lindsey muttered, climbing to his feet.

In the bathroom, he looked at his face, and there was no handprint. He touched his cheek, feeling nothing. Before he got into the shower, he glanced at his backside, and again found no traces of the vampire's abuse. For just a moment, he was almost sorry.

After showering the dreams away in cold water, Lindsey felt like himself again. He dressed carefully, brushing his hair back neatly, and looked into the mirror. There were no tears, no humility, nothing. He drew a breath, and smiled.

"This _is_ the real me."

* * *

Angel awoke in alarm, clutching at his heart. _'I'm still here,'_ he realized. _'It was a dream.'_

He fell back into bed, exhaling and staring at the ceiling. _'Lindsey is a sad, sad boy,'_ he thought as the disappointment crawled into his skin. _'Damn him, anyway. Some humans just won't . . . let themselves be human.'_

Still, the vision-dream had stirred many feelings in the vampire. He was unable to go back to sleep, and wandered his apartment, then office, listlessly. He hardly heard a word Wesley or Cordelia said, and as soon as evening came, he found himself on the roof of the building. Somehow, he knew Lindsey was gazing out at the same city from an office at his precious Wolfram & Hart.

"Angel?"

Angel turned around. "Oh. Hey, Wesley. Is everything--"

"No, no, everything is fine," Wesley said. He tentatively came up to his boss' side, studying him. "I just . . . I was worried. About you."

"I'm fine."

"You seem distracted."

Angel shrugged. "Just thinking."

"Oh. All right."

Silence fell. Finally, Angel asked, "Why do some people choose evil, Wesley?"

Wesley's eyebrows raised, taken off guard by the question. "Well . . . I suppose there are as many reasons as there are people," he said. "For some, I suppose it's simply easier. Weakness. Greed. Fear."

"But knowing, being totally aware of your actions and what you are becoming . . . " Angel shook his head. "How can you still make that choice?"

"I suppose some people just figure it's worth the price." Wesley crossed his arms, looking out at the city. "Like love."

"What?" Angel asked. "It isn't at all like love."

"Yes it is," Wesley replied quietly. "Have you ever known that love would destroy you, or others around you, yet you chose it, regardless?"

"Yeah, but--"

"It's simply a different kind of love," Wesley told him, turning to him. "It's self-love. But it is love."

Angel looked defeated.

"Some people just can't love anyone but themselves, and they do for themselves the same insane things others would do for the partner they love," Wesley said. "We can judge them all we like, and say we would do differently, but . . . Who knows what we would do? After all, I . . . " Wes cleared his throat. "_Some people_ . . . want the love of another . . . and they want it so badly, they might just sell their soul for it, if they could."

"Wes, you wouldn't."

"I've never been presented with the choice," Wesley smiled.

"You never know until you've been tested," Angel said distantly. " . . . I guess you have a point."

"All we can do is wait until our turn comes, and hope we're strong enough."

"The rest is up to fate."

"Mmm."

A melancholy silence overtook the evening as darkness settled. Wesley stood with his friend for a while, and then gave Angel's shoulder a brief pat before going back down to their offices. Angel remained alone, but not alone. He could feel Lindsey, somewhere out there in the city, and he knew Lindsey could feel him.

Finally, Angel turned his back on the city, and felt the lingering ties between them being severed. The lines had been drawn, and it was clear on which side each man stood. All that was left to do was tend to the rest of the war . . .

Across town, Lindsey shut the blinds to his office, nodding to himself. He sat down in his new chair, and began opening folders. New assignments, new plans, and a new life. A better life, if he could defend it long enough to enjoy it.

. . . and hope they were strong enough.

_I want to be rich and I want lots of money  
I don't care about clever, I don't care about funny  
I want loads of clothes and fuckloads of diamonds  
I heard people die while they are trying to find them_

_I don't know what's right and what's real anymore  
I don't know how I'm meant to feel anymore  
When do you think it will all become clear?  
'Cuz I'm being taken over by The Fear_

"The Fear", Lily Allen

**- End -**


End file.
